


Delicate and Rare: Two Weeks

by ZionAngel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZionAngel/pseuds/ZionAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in Bad_Faery's "Delicate and Rare" verse, a non-magical AU in which Belle is an up-and-coming stage actress, and Gold is a powerful theater critic with some serious confidence issues in the bedroom.</p><p>This fic takes place two weeks after they start dating, on the last night of Belle's play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate and Rare: Two Weeks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bad_Faery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Faery/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Delicate and Rare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/545943) by [Bad_Faery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Faery/pseuds/Bad_Faery). 



> Bad_Faery has graciously given me permission to play with Delicate and Rare “all I want” in her absence. A wonderful gift indeed, as it is my very favorite ‘verse of hers, and perhaps my favorite Rumbelle ‘verse ever. I do hope it lives up to her high standards!

Tonight is the last showing of _Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?_ , and as he takes his seat in the audience, Gold can hardly wrap his head around how foolish he was just two weeks ago, and what an unfathomably lucky man he is now.

He hasn’t seen Belle all day – she was running errands and in auditions all morning, and went to the theater early to pack up her belongings in her dressing room.  He’s gotten better at going hours or days without seeing her, since they began their relationship barely two weeks ago, but he still misses her so easily.  He has fallen for her so desperately, moreso than even he thought possible.

His dreams were so small, so lonely when he first met her.  He fell half in love with her the moment he saw her brilliant talent on stage, and after months of bribing his way into her dressing room with orchids just for the pleasure of her company, his greatest hope was that she would allow him to kiss her on the cheek on closing night.

All he dared to dream of was one kiss.  He believed it would have been enough to keep him warm in his lonely bed for the rest of his days.  He thought he would be able to say goodbye, and live with just a memory.

Now that he has her, all of her, he can’t believe how blind he was, can’t believe he ever thought a memory would be enough to satisfy his longing for the woman herself.  He can hardly believe how much his entire world has changed in barely two weeks.  He has held her, kissed her, made love to her.  He knows how soft her skin feels, what her lips taste like, the beautifully agonized sound of her screams as she comes.  They have made love, and he has experienced a kind of pleasure and connection and _love_ in her arms that he never dreamed possible.  And he has given _her_ pleasure, and made her happy.  They have something now, something that he is hesitant to label, but that is very real, and so much better than a lonely old man’s fantasies.  Though he still cringes to think about his rather lacking skills in bed, she has shown him so much, and he is starting to become cautiously optimistic that if she keeps teaching him, he might actually learn to do a decent job of it one day.  She has given him countless beautiful memories, and more happiness than he ever could have hoped for.  He never could have imagined the man he is now just two weeks ago.

He once thought he could live on just a memory.  Now, he doesn’t know how he’ll ever manage to survive if she decides to leave.  But even if it doesn’t last, he owes her his heart, his everything for all that she has given him.

As the lights dim and the curtain goes up, he lets all his other thoughts fall away, and just enjoys the magic of the play, and the wonder of his Belle on stage.  Perhaps he is biased, but he thinks this may well be her best performance to date.

When the play is over, he is the first to rise as the whole house gives a standing ovation.  Her smile is radiant as she takes her place in line with her cast mates to take a bow.  As the audience keeps on cheering, each actor steps forward in turn to bow on their own.  When Belle steps forward, she curtseys with all the grace of a queen, and as she stands, her eyes lock with his, and she blows him a kiss.

After the curtain closes and the rest of the audience makes their way toward the exits, Gold follows a familiar path to the back of the theater, feeling like a lovesick schoolboy.  He turns down the hallway to her dressing room just in time to see Belle, clad in her usual jeans and poet blouse, being dragged along by one of her co-stars.

“Just a minute!” she laughs, digging her heels in.  “He’ll be here in just a minute, he always – Anthony!”  He continues down the hall toward her, smiling despite his confusion.  She points to her co-star as she finally lets herself be pulled along toward the back door.  “I’m being kidnapped for an impromptu cast party!”

“Oh,” he calls, slowing to a stop just past her dressing room door.  “Will… will you come over afterwards?”  He tries to hide his disappointment at the change in plans, trying not to make her feel guilty for wanting to do what any young actress would.

She calls out again just as she gets pulled out the door.  “Don’t you want to come with me?”

He can’t help but laugh at himself as he follows after her.

Outside, he finds the rest of the cast, autographing playbills for a handful of fans.  Belle stands off to the side, letting her more famous co-stars do their duties.  He joins her, pulling her close for a kiss.  “Brilliant as always, Love.”  She smiles at the compliment, combing her fingers through the ends of his hair.

“Uh… Miss French?”  They pull apart to find a young woman with a playbill and marker in her hands.  “Can I have your autograph?”

Belle blushes at the request, but smiles happily as she obliges.  For several minutes, more fans come from around the building, a small crowd passing around them.  Many people ask to have their playbill signed by the whole cast, Belle included, but Gold can’t help but swell with pride at the handful of people who ask for autographs from Belle alone.  She is a phenomenal actress, talented far beyond her years, and it is heartwarming to know that other people see it, too.

Soon the crowd dissipates, and the last fan receives their autographs.  Belle returns to his side with a smile, linking her arm through his, and they follow her cast mates as they head down the street, not terribly concerned where they end up.

… …

When they make it back to his building later that night, Belle clings to him as they step into the elevator, only mildly tipsy, but elated and giggling as she uses his tie to pull him down for a kiss.  He holds her tight, keeping the kiss slow and deep, seeking out all the little places he’s learned she loves.  She sighs contentedly as they part, leaning her head against his chest.

He thinks back as he holds her, shaking his head at the memories.  “I had hoped you would let me kiss you on the cheek tonight.”

She makes a sound almost like a purr against his chest.  “I’ll let you kiss me a lot more places than that.”

He laughs, caressing her hair.  “No, I mean… before we… slept together.  Back when I would come to your dressing room after every show.  I hoped you would let me kiss you on closing night, so I could have something to remember you by.  Something beautiful to keep me going the rest of my life.”

She looks up at him, head still resting against his shoulder.  “Well then, it’s a _really_ good thing I had the sense to take some initiative, then.”

He smiles down at her, thinking of what might have been – she would have been long gone by the time he reached her dressing room.  He would have imagined any one of a hundred heartbreaking possibilities, assuming she was avoiding him, or glad finally to be rid of him, or simply didn’t value their conversations enough to want one more.  He would have left, dejected, and never seen her again.  He would have continued to go to whatever plays she starred in, of course, but he never would have found the courage to visit her dressing room and talk to her again.  No, if Belle had not seen through him, seen the affection and longing growing in his heart, had not had the courage that he lacked to act on it, he would be lost.

At her smile, he pushes those thoughts away.  All of those things could have happened, of course, but they didn’t.  Instead, he has Belle in his arms, sweet and warm and willing, and he couldn’t ask for anything better.  “Couldn’t agree more,” he murmurs, kissing the tip of her nose as the elevator doors open on his floor.

Inside his apartment, he flips on the lights and guides her to the couch, urging her to sit while he fetches wine for a toast.  In the kitchen he opens up one of his better vintages, one he’s been saving for a special occasion he was starting to think would never come.  He pours two glasses, and carefully balances them in his free hand to return to the living room.

When he arrives, he finds Belle leaning against the back of the couch, her head propped on a pillow, and her eyes closed.  He can’t help but smile at the sight as he carefully sets the glasses down and sits beside her.

He calls her name and she jumps slightly, startled out of her half-sleep.  “You’re exhausted, Belle.  What say we make a quick toast and take you to bed?”

She smiles at him, and sits up as he hands her the glass.

“To my darling Belle,” he says, raising his own glass.  “May her star continue to rise, and may she receive every bit of happiness she deserves.”

She clinks her glass to his, murmuring “Thank you” before drinking down her share.

She holds on to his arm as he leads her to the bedroom.  She yawns loudly as she kicks off her shoes, and tugs off all of her clothes but her panties, leaving them in the chair by his closet.  His hands slow as he watches her, admiring the expanses of smooth skin and the lovely curve of her back.  He knows she is far too tired for anything tonight, but he loves to watch her.  She disappears into his closet for a moment, and when she returns, she is wearing one of his t-shirts.  The sight fills him with desire and love, and he thinks yet again just how incredibly lucky he is.

He strips down to his boxer shorts, turning off the lights before crawling under the covers with Belle.  He lies on his back on his side of the bed, letting her decide how close she wants to be.  To his delight, she curls up to him immediately, throwing her leg over his, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.  She shuffles a bit until she is comfortable, then stills with a deep sigh.  He lifts her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles, drawing a contented murmur from her, and finally pulls the covers up around them.

He lies in the dark for several minutes as her breathing slows, savoring the moment.  Even without making love, lying with her like this is comfortable and wonderfully intimate.  If all he ever had again was this, holding her in his arms, he would be a happy man.  Every muscle in his body gradually relaxes as he concentrates on the feel of her heartbeat beside him.  He sighs, enjoying the feeling while he can, and leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head.  “I love you, Belle.”

Then, his heart all but stops as he feels her move, first lifting her head from his shoulder, then shifting her whole body up.  He is about to say her name, tell her he’s sorry, he thought she was asleep, _anything_ , whatever it takes –

But then her lips press against his in a soft kiss, and her fingers delve into his hair, running over his scalp in that way she knows makes him melt.  And he just holds on to her, kisses her back, too confused and scared to do anything else.

After a minute, she pulls back, and he thinks he can just make out a smile in the dark.  “I love you too, Anthony.”

He stares at her, trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes out.  She giggles, and kisses his lower lip again before snuggling back down against his chest.

“And don’t worry,” she murmurs, yawning again.  “I’ll say it again in the morning so you know it wasn’t a dream.”

All he manages to do is hold her, heart full of wonder and joy as he drifts off to sleep.


End file.
